We go together

Josh and I have a little game we like to play together. It started innocently enough one day while I was trying to put on his shoes, and for some reason, I said something like, "You're the shoes, and I'm the laces." 

He gave me a puzzled look, glanced around the room, and said, "How about: I'm the hockey stick, and you're the puck!" 

"That's a good one!" I replied.

And so it began. 

"How about: You're the bird, and I'm the nest," I said as we got into the car.

"How about: I'm the flag, and you're the pole," he matched as we made our way downtown.

"OK. You're the car, and I'm the road," I said as I drove.

"Yeah!" he shouted with glee. 

"I'm the tea, and you're the cup!" he said after a couple of minutes, recalling Daddy's morning ritual.

"Nice one! How about: You're the gas, and I'm the station," I said as we pulled in to fill up.

When I got back in the car, he was waiting. "I'm the grill, and you're the meat," he shouted from the quiet of the back seat.

We drove past the post office and merged onto the narrow downtown streets. "I'm the letter, and you're the stamp," I said as I parked the car.

We walked a couple blocks until we could see the plastic tables piled high with fresh vegetables, hand-baked bread, and baskets of berries. A musician plucked his guitar and sang folk songs as we strolled down the street that this morning was filled with people instead of cars. Josh took my hand, looked up at me, and sweetly said, "I'm the macaroni, and you're the cheese."

I squeezed his small hand and beamed, flattered to be so closely associated with his favorite food on the planet.

"You're the chocolate chip, and I'm the cookie," I said quietly, returning the sentiment.

He grinned up at me and did a little hop. 

Then he said, "I'm the yummy part of the orange, and you're the peel."

OK. I think I lost that round.